


You Won't Feel A Thing (At All)

by urieskooki



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Fix-It, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon Fix-It, Smoking, urie is an asshole Surprise Surprise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:59:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7416988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urieskooki/pseuds/urieskooki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> "Urie, we've been here for hours, you've got to let him go. He's not c-coming back." </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Don't you fucking die on me!" Kuki had screamed until his voice grew hoarse, cradled Shirazu desperately to his chest, but that still hadn't done them any good in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Won't Feel A Thing (At All)

**Author's Note:**

> here it is at last!! i've been working on this for about.... agh maybe since chap 55 happened?? so this is a big work for me!!
> 
> thank you steph for betaing my hellchild for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have been lonely without that familiar bark of laughter throughout the house, but Kuki thinks they're doing fine (although he knows he isn't).

There’s an ache in Kuki's chest and a paintbrush in his hand, and nothing feels right as he slashes it against a canvas he’s been standing in front of for what feels like hours.

With a cry, he throws the brush down and crouches down to scrub his palms against his eyes. He realises a little belatedly that the overpowering scent of paint has gotten stronger, and looks down to see paint smeared over his fingers and the backs of his hands.

A familiar cold kind of slickness on his face tells him he’s made a mess of himself.

_Hopeless._

He regrets waking up this early - or is it late? It’s certainly past midnight, and while he can’t be bothered checking the time, the sky is still dark outside.

_Maybe this was a bad idea…_

But he’d had a dream and woken up aching to paint a certain teammate in a desperate attempt at capturing how _he_ looked.

Suddenly, angrily, he punches a hole through the canvas and the still-wet paint streaks his skin in bright slashes of red and orange, the colours of blood and fire, the colours of Kuki’s own heart.

He can’t quite get rid of the lingering feeling of guilt deep in his chest, because he can’t remember what Shirazu _really_ was like. He looks at photos and he recognises the hair and he recognises the same sharp smile he always wore but he thinks of a voice to accompany it and it’s… it’s not him. It’s never him. It’s never _right._

What kind of teammate can’t remember something like that?

 _What kind of_ **_friend_ ** _can’t remember something like that?_

Every time he puts brush to canvas the image in his head doesn’t come out _right_ , it just looks... dead.

(But that’s probably because Shirazu is).

It just never looks the way he knows it _should._

He cleans his arm off and covers the drying paint, tries to sleep even as the smell of it assaults his nose strongly enough to make him retch.

He sits up again after ten minutes of looking at the shadows of the room.

Warm tears trickle down his cold face and sting his chapped lips.

Sometimes, when he can't sleep, he jerks off and pretends there isn't a name on the cusp of falling from his lips when he finishes. This isn't one of those nights. (He doesn’t even _enjoy_ masturbating either; it’s just something to pass the time).

It's these nights that he watches the ceiling dare him to stay awake, but when has he ever backed down from a challenge? The sun will rise above the rooftops to remind him he hasn’t slept and it doesn’t matter how many times Kuki tells himself he feels better; he always ends up having to scrub his cheeks clean of the itch that comes with dried tears.

“Happy fucking Birthday, Kuki.” He murmurs, recalling a time where recognition and a promotion - that he should have known they wouldn’t give someone (a freak) like him - were his only concerns, not a body that should be rotting underground but is instead rotting in an Aogiri lab. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe they’ve messed him up so much you’d think him awake if not for the grey tinge to his face and the stitches in his gut to hold his organs inside his body.

(If Kuki hadn’t still been clutching Shirazu’s motionless body to his chest when the rigor mortis had begun to set in he would have believed him to be alive too. He’d pressed his fingers desperately to Shirazu’s neck in hopes of finding a pulse – _“Urie, we’ve been here for hours, you have to let go of him. Please, just let go, h-he’s not coming back.”_ – and had felt stiffness where there shouldn’t have been, and he hadn’t thought it possible to cry any more but that alone had made him sob harder than ever).

_What have they done to him?_

_Why haven't I been able to find him yet?_

Kuki turns over, looking at the wall to distract himself. “You're twenty-two. How does that feel?”

_Like shit._

He shoves his hand down his pants anyway and pretends it makes him feel better, even if the knot is still in his chest long after he himself comes undone. It feels more gratuitous than anything.

 

_“Kuki.” He looked up to see his father standing at his doorway, expression unreadable. Always calm, which was what scared Kuki the most._

_“Why didn't you do the dishes last night? You know your mother is sick. Selfish.”_

_Kuki curled up in a tight ball, hands cupped over his ears. I’m sorry, please, I wasn’t thinking. It’s just a small mistake, please._

_“You're going to regret ignoring me.”_

_The first burn had hurt so much he wouldn't stop crying for hours, and then it was something to be expected._

_That didn’t mean it hurt any less._

_He screamed at the contact, white hot cigarette end digging into the smooth skin of his hand. It stung enough for the cry to come out of his mouth almost unintentionally. Almost. Dad, it hurts. Please, stop_ **_._ ** _If I cry enough, will you stop?_

_“Are you going to listen now, Kuki?”_

_Yes, Dad, I'll listen. I'm sorry. I'll listen from now on. I'm sorry. Please don't do it anymore. I'm sorry. It hurts. I'm sorry. It_ **_hurts._ **

_If I listen… I won't need to apologize anymore._

_He opens his eyes again, and his father is gone, and he’s no longer in his childhood home. He doesn’t know where he is, actually. Or if he’s anywhere to begin with at all. It’s simply black... Empty._

_Isolated._

_There’s always one face in particular that haunts these kinds of places (dreams?) – jagged teeth fixed in a smirking mouth he wishes wasn’t ingrained in his memory better than the way his own mother’s hair used to fall against her pillow. Regardless of the rough edges, Kuki always finds him beautiful. Regardless of the blood caked on his face, and the tears streaking tracks in the grime coating his skin, he’s breathtaking, even though he’s so ugly._

_The face is missing tonight, and he hates that he feels disappointed about it._

_No, tonight, he’s holding a jacket. He wishes to god he didn’t recognize it. It’s filthy, a large splash of blood up the side along with a ragged tear. The back is the dark brown of dried blood too, but there’s so much of it. Like the person wearing it was lying in it (probably because he was, Kuki thinks bitterly), and the paler fur lining the hood is matted, yet more congealing blood sticking the fibres together._

_It should smell of iron, but it doesn’t. Instead it’s warm, and smells of Shirazu’s cheap deodorant, and his cheap soap (chamomile, which Kuki finds strangely calming). Underneath that scent is cigarette smoke, and greasy fries (absently, Kuki remembers that being the last meal they ate together)._

_The smell is so thick that it lingers at the back of his throat so heavily he can almost taste it. While it should be unpleasant, he simply finds it soothing. Like home._

_He doesn’t want to let go of it._

_He’d rather inhale it so deeply that it lingers in his lungs, so every breath he takes pushes Shirazu deeper into him, so deep that he can never, ever let go._

_Maybe he’s trying to when he buries his nose deep in one of the unbloodied parts of the fabric and inhales so deeply he’s sure he’d forgotten how to exhale when he finally lets it back out, head spinning._

_“I love you.” He mutters, tears springing to his eyes. “Don’t leave me.”_

_The jacket stares up at him, mocking, like it’s whispering ‘But he did.’_

_Sitting, he wipes his eyes. Then he blinks, and he’s no longer crying (he refuses to) as he puts his hand into his pocket, producing two cigarettes he didn’t know he had. He lights both of them (or did they just light by themselves? He doesn’t remember), sticks one in between his lips and the other on the concrete in front of him. The smoke drifts into the black sky above him as they burn out together._

_“You should’ve told me you smoked, I might’ve even shown you my hideout in the Chateau. It was on the roof.”_

_The only thing that awaits Kuki when he finishes his drag is a freezing silence. “You never stop talking, so why is it that you finally shut your goddamn mouth now?”_

_Silence._

_“I would’ve kissed you before the raid if I thought for a second you’d let me.” (If I’d known what would happen)._

_Silence._

_“I wish I had.”_

_He watches the cigarette adjacent to him puff out more smoke, and it’s almost as if there’s someone on the other end breathing it in. He wipes his eyes dry again. When the smoke drifts upward, he sees words forming in it._

_‘_ I’m sorry.’

_“I miss you. I fucking miss you, asshole.”_

‘I’m sorry.’

_“That isn’t enough! Don’t fucking apologize when you know damn well that doesn’t change a thing.”_

‘I love you too.’

_“…Should’ve told me earlier, fucker.”_

_No more words form after that._

_It feels like hours when his own cigarette finally burns out, the last of the ash dropping onto the coat in his lap._

_Then he’s alone and the silence threatens to clog his throat like glue if he so much as opens his mouth to scream._

_He tries to anyway, and watches through half-lidded eyes as the noise drifts out on foggy breath not unlike the smoke he’d been breathing up until a few minutes ago. He sees it disperse shakily, or maybe it’s just him that’s shaking_.

 

On this year’s birthday there's no Haise to wake him up early even though they don’t have work today. Instead he wakes up on his own in a cold sweat, eyes raw and red, hands trembling so bad he has to clench them just so he can pretend he’s fine.

This year it's making himself cereal that will undoubtedly go uneaten and watching Yonebayashi trip over herself to make Kuki a terrible cup of coffee even though it’s _fine, I already have one, Yonebayashi,_ **_I already have one._ **

This year it's hearing a door open and knowing it's not Shirazu because they made Kuki clean his room out (who has to know he suddenly owns a lot more clothing at least two sizes too big?) to make room for someone that isn't Shirazu. _There are plenty of spare rooms in this godforsaken place, why did they make me dismantle the only remnant we have that he even existed?_

He hears someone clear their throat and looks up to see the three new recruits standing in front of him, awkward in their movements. Shifty.

“It’s your birthday, correct, sir?” Shao looks bored.

Silently, he nods, and out of the corner of his eye he spots Yonebayashi making quick, jerky movements at them (shaking her head, perhaps?). He ignores her.

“Uhm, w-we thought we’d- “ Higemaru falls silent before he clears his throat and tries again, “We got you a present.”

_Why does he have to remind me so much of- Why does he want to impress me so much? I don’t deserve that._

“Don’t bother.” He manages to mumble out, even if their (Higemaru’s) faces fall before standing and leaving. Silent, he numbly makes his way back into his room, lies on his bed and does his best to ignore the ache deep inside his ribcage. _I don’t deserve any of this._

_Pathetic._

 

_“What the fuck are these?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“I know what cigarette burns look like, Urie. And there are a lot of these.”_

_Who the fuck was Shirazu to question his Father’s choices? He only wanted the best for Kuki. And Shirazu was just some asshole who liked to make fun of him and pretend he fucking cared when he clearly didn’t._ **_Clearly._ ** _That just pissed him off, enough for him to step forward, fists clenching hard enough that his nails left raw, red crescents in his palms._

_Who was he to pretend Kuki didn’t deserve every single goddamn scar marring his skin?_

_“Listen, Shirazu, you don’t know shit about my life, and you don’t know shit about me. It doesn’t matter how much you_ **_think_ ** _you do or how much you_ **_want_ ** _to.” Kuki had snapped and stepped yet closer to jab a bare finger into Shirazu’s chest, “Stay the fuck out of my business, and I’ll stay out of yours.”_

_Hurt had creased Shirazu’s face then, and he had moved back, mumbling, “Sorry… I won’t ask again.”_

_No, please, help me. I don’t want to be like him, I don’t want to hurt people like he did, help me be a better person, please._

_Kuki turned around and not a word was said between them for a full week._

 

He awakes with a start when Yonebayashi knocks on his door, clearing her throat nervously.

“Uriko, I know it's our day off but...”

“What?” He spits, bad mood already souring further.

“Uh, Matsuri called us in for a job.” She opens the door and comes to stand in front of him, arms crossed.

“He said they need _us_ _specifically_ on it.” She huffs, “I was gonna start a new game today too.” Then she frowns, “He said it’s bad.”

Teeth gritting, Kuki flips himself onto his stomach and pushes himself to his feet,

“Now?”

“Now.”

The trip to the location Matsuri provides is silent, as if everyone in the car can sense exactly how much Kuki wants them to shut their fucking mouths, as if they feel the same sense of foreboding he can.

Kuki lights a cigarette even though he knows the rest hate the smell of it and selfishly inhales his own self-pity (pathetic) until Yonebayashi snaps at him and snatches it right out of his fingers. He almost thinks she’s about to put it out on the back of his hand, and then he remembers that these people aren’t going to hurt him, and watches as she throws it out the window instead.

He hates smoking but the _con_ _trol_ it gives him is addicting rather than the nicotine, the fact that _he’s_ holding it and not his father gives him more of a rush than this ever could.

“You know Aura has asthma!”

 _Then why the fuck is he here if he can’t handle a little smoke?_ Kuki doesn’t say, even if he wants to, _I have to make these kids (bastards) respect me._

Whatever they're going to find is not going to be good, and each and every one in the car can sense it.

When they get to the large, abandoned building, Matsuri sends them in without any briefing. Nothing more than,

_“Brace yourselves.”_

Wow, for once that asshole actually sounds concerned about them. What a fucking surprise. Perhaps next he'll take them all out to dinner (they can accompany Kuki this time) and surprise them all with 'Best Test Subject Ever' badges for them to pin to the front of their goddamn white coats to let everyone they pass know that when they aren't doing missions they're bent over backwards so the entire Washuu Clan can fuck them over yet again.

Big fucking whoop if he’s actually worried about what they'll see in there.

Yonebayashi starts to cry when they get inside, and while the thick, metallic scent of blood is overpowering for her powerful nose, Kuki's more powerful one can barely stand it. He pushes down the bile rising in his throat. _Weak._

“What can you hear?”

Letting out a grumble in response, she looks at the large doors of the warehouse (closed behind them the second they stepped over the threshold), “I don't want to be here anymore.”

Ignoring her, Kuki gestures to an opening on the other side of the building, “Split up. You go through that tunnel, Yonebayashi.”

He turns to the other, ill-fitting part of the squad. “Aura, Shao, you're with her. Higemaru, follow me.”

The latter lets out a cheer and scrambles to walk beside Kuki as he stalks into the remaining tunnel.

“Don't act so excited. This is a mission.” He spits, thumb already poised on the release of his quinque.

“Sorry, Captain Urie!”

“And don't treat this like another one of your frankly _blatant_ attempts to cosy up to me either.”

Higemaru chokes, stopping in place where he stares at the ground before looking up, cheeks pinking as he mutters, voice full of shame, “I'm sorry, Captain Urie.”

Silent, Kuki steps to the side and puts a finger to his lips. He’s guilty, but he’s ignoring the boy in an attempt to diffuse the tension he’s put between them.

“Can you hear... laughing?”

The other male shakes his head, eyes still glued to the floor, “Maybe that was, um, what Miss Saiko was concerned about…”

“Maybe...”

Quietly, they follow the tunnel, where the laughing gets louder and finally even Higemaru admits he can arhchear it too.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, they find themselves nearing the exit of the darkened tunnel.

By the end, Higemaru is still pensive, eyes glazed over. He's managed to smudge the drawn on dots under his eyes to the point where it looks like he's been crying. _Maybe he has been._ Kuki tries to push the guilt down.

Kuki wishes he could rub his own moles away as easily.

 

_“Eeew, Urie, those are ugly!”_

_“At least your Dad looks cool with his!”_

_“Can't you just, like, put concealer over them or something? They freak me out. It's weird.”_

_“Hehe, the fuck's that on yer face?”_

_“Your moles are sexy.”_

_“I... like yer moles, ya dick.”_

 

“Captain Urie, we- C-Captain...?”

Kuki blinks suddenly and snaps his head to face Higemaru.

“We're at the end of the tunnel, Sir.”

“Thanks, Shira- “He catches himself a second too slow, cursing as he glances around the room they've been led to. Higemaru says nothing.

“The laughing stopped awhile back.”

Straining his ears, Kuki notes that it's eerily silent. The only sound he can hear is the drip, drop, drop of water somewhere in the darkened building they're about to enter. The white painted doors are thrown wide open, _come on in._ Paint flakes off as they pass them.

It's completely dark, just a few boarded up windows letting tiny slivers of light through. They wait a minute or so for their eyes to adjust properly before stepping onto the hard concrete past the doors.

Cautiously, Kuki inhales through his nose and recoils immediately. It smells like blood in here too. And rot. It’s so strong that he actually has to press a hand to his nose to block out how overpoweringly it smells of death in here.

“Captain... You might want to check this out.” Higemaru calls, and Kuki opens his eyes ( _when did I even close them?)_ , barely flinching when he sees what’s inside.

Rows and rows of bodies, all in varying states of decay. All hung by the ankles from the high ceiling on long, long ropes that leave them in small clusters lining what appears to be a path towards... something else.

He follows the bodies, taking careful steps as the lump on a set of stairs up to.... ah, the tunnel led into what used to be a church.

There are no pews, only bodies, but there's an organ off to the side with yet another body slumped over on the stool.

The lump twitches slightly and Kuki's heart quickens as he ascends the stairs, deploying his quinque with a kind of well-practiced ease.

_Time to do your job, Ginkui._

He shifts into a stronger position and readies himself as he reaches out with his other hand to rip off the thin covering over it.

False alarm.

“This one's about to die anyway.” Kuki calls back, moving Ginkui away, behind his back as he bends down to cover the body back up with the sheet - covers the dirty grey of his pallid skin, the foul stench cloaking his naked, emaciated torso, covers the great holes torn in his arms (teethmarks, most likely).

He should feel sorry for this man and yet he feels nothing but apathy and a sense of urgency to finish the damn job so he can go home to wallow once more.

“What can you tell us?”

The figure shivers before opening his mouth and it becomes apparent why the man hasn’t made a sound since they walked in - he has no tongue. Kuki blinks, and then a mocking voice slides smoothly like it’s greased into Kuki’s ears. “You found our little... exhibit, did you?”

He hears a small tap (feet hitting the ground, perhaps?), and turns to see a flash of black and white.

“He _did_ say you're an arty guy though... Who knows?” A voice by his ear, crooning and soft, “Maybe you enjoyed it, huh?”

Spinning around again, Kuki is met with the sight of the man on the altar dead, throat spilling thick red all around Kuki’s feet.

“Who the fu-?”

“Squad leader!” Higemaru looks at Kuki with wild, panicked eyes, physically recoiling at the sight of all that blood _(I miss that innocence),_ “I’d feel safer if we stayed together.”

Nodding, Kuki goes to press his back against Higemaru's, eyes focused. ( _I miss the time when I wasn’t used to the smell of death choking me)._

“Ooh, I wouldn't be worried about yourself, if I were you. I'd be more worried about your friends.” Finally, they catch sight of the familiar man in front of them. Owl.

“The fuck is that supposed to- Yonebayashi!”

He hears his headpiece crackle into life, splashing and squishing noises coming through. A tearing sound rips the air from his lungs, and then he hears a voice from it that makes his blood run cold.

Because he _recognises it._ He doesn’t know where from but it's something as familiar as his mother’s voice when he was sick as his child. Soft and caring. This one is caring too, but it sounds so _false._

“Ya might wanna come check this out, Urie!” The voice brightly suggests, the tearing noise breaking through again. “Takizawa left ya a lil present but _this_ is where the _real_ surprise is!”

“Urie... don't. You don't want to see this, stay away.” Yonebayashi cries, somewhat muffled.

“I think he does, Saiko.”

There's a protest that's just barely left her lips when it's cut off, sickening thud registering in Kuki’s ears too late, “Enough of _that._ ”

“What did you do to her?” Kuki grits his teeth, eyes on the man- Takizawa as he grins back and rocks forward on his heels and back a few times, strangely... placid for what he's heard.

“Ooh, I didn’t think ya actually _cared... Uribou._ Ya sent ‘em here after all. Just like ya sent _me_ on my way all those years ago.”

 _Only_ **_he_ ** _ever…_

He hears Shao shout, just barely audible over the acidic laughter, and then there's nothing but static in his ears.

Kuki stiffens, and Higemaru peers at him with concern all over his face. “Captain Urie?”

“We have to leave. Now. This was all planned.” He readies himself to fight Owl but before he can, Owl darts through a window, water-stained boards and dust-coated stained glass smashing in his wake.

“Follow him!”

He's not thinking clearly enough to realise that this might be a trap as well.

As fast as they can, Higemaru and Kuki follow, skidding out the open door.

Giggling seems to both follow and lead them along the tunnel from which they came, both beckoning and prodding Kuki forward with a crooked finger.

“Huuuurry up, Mr Investigatoooor~!”

Kuki flinches and Higemaru shoots him yet another furtive glance. “You alright?”

 _At least... whoever it is, they're ignoring Higemaru. But why would they be focused on_ **_me_ ** _? Surely they aren’t, right?_

“I'm fine.” He hisses, teeth clenched. “Keep going.”

_Don't be dead, Shao, don't be dead, Aura, don't be dead, Yonebayashi. Please don't be dead._

“Captain…” Higemaru stops in his tracks and points at the floor in front of them. Kuki snaps out of his daze long enough to see… _it._

He feels his eyes start to burn.

“Is… Is that…?” The word ‘ _blood’_ is kept behind Higemaru’s teeth, but Kuki hears it just the same.

A _very_ familiar jacket, blood-stained and torn, the fur lining the hood clumped together with the amount of grime coating the strands. It’s so filthy he can hardly tell the colour it used to be, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell if he hadn’t already known it would be a kind of forest green with just the hint of brown that was such an _ugly_ colour but belonged to someone so _beautiful_. He wouldn’t recognize it if he didn’t dream every other night about the person who once wore it.

Shakily, he drops to one knee and picks it up with trembling fingers, holding it long enough to carefully inhale before he drops it again, mouth turning down at the corners.

_Smells like him._

“It’s his.”

“Whose…?” Higemaru raises a brow questioningly.

“…Ah, uh…” His voice breaks, and, god, he’s trembling now as he drags himself to his feet, “…It’s Sh- Shirazu’s.”

_I haven’t said this name aloud in the better half of a year, have I…?_

They didn’t talk about Shirazu at the Chateau at all. The most the other half of the squad knows is a name and that they’d lost a team member not long before they arrived, and that it’s a sensitive topic (Usually ending in a crying Yonebayashi, and Kuki swiping at his own eyes too before leaving behind a slammed door).

“Oh.”

Stepping over the jacket, Kuki keeps walking, Higemaru following behind anxiously.

“Did you like that little surprise, Mr Investigator?” Owl taunts, Kuki spins around to see nothing but thin air.

In one sharp motion, Kuki jabs his quinque down into the floor, jumping out of the way of the small hole that forms.

“Stay here.” He barks, teeth gritted as he jumps down and hits icy, ankle depth water. Sniffing, Kuki pulls his torch out and inspects the tunnel, finding nothing but rats scurrying away from him like they too can sense how murderous he is.

Above him, Higemaru calls, “Can you see anything, Captain?”

“No.” He responds, jaw set firmly. Without much further inspection, he hauls himself onto ground level again.

Just in time to shove Higemaru out of the way of Owl’s gnashing teeth.

“For god’s sake, be _careful!”_ Panic builds in his throat. _He could have died and it would have been your fault._ **_Your fault._ ** _Just like-_

“Oooh, _Captain_ Urie, huh?” His earpiece crackles again, and he jerks, watching Owl disappear into the hole in the ground.

“We’re being led around like lab rats.” Kuki hisses, tearing the earpiece off and flinging it to his feet, “Keep an eye out for any of the Squad.”

 _They’re playing_ _with us._

Then he remembers their situation, and he swears, sprints his way to the end of the tunnel, unease turning his stomach, _please be okay, Yonebayashi._

Behind him, Higemaru follows, panting, and the sound is far too loud in such a quiet tunnel. But they push on, lungs screaming.

“But, Captain, what about O-“

Kuki cuts him off with a sharp glower, yelling, “ _The Owl is not our fucking concern right now, Higemaru!_ ”

Once it would have been.

Once he would have leapt at the opportunity to gain recognition for taking down an SS rate ghoul. Maybe if he hadn’t let his emotions get the better of him, he could have but now all he can think about is the safety of these people he once hated, once wished would _die_ , and now all he’s doing is trying to keep them safe. _Maybe if I’d done that for Shirazu, things would have turned out differently._

All too suddenly, the find themselves at the end of the tunnel, but they aren’t at the entrance where they arrived: they’re in a completely different room. _How in the hell…?_

_“Ooh, Squad Leader~”_

Kuki’s eyes snap up, and he sees a cloaked figure perched on a rafter, head tilted to one side. It’s a familiar pose, used by many of Aogiri’s other puppets.

“Who the fuck are you?” Kuki asks and the figure pulls the hood back slightly to reveal a pointed nose and gaping black eyes, making a ‘ta-da’ motion with their filthy hands.

“That mask doesn’t belong to you, trash.”

The ghoul laughs again, leaping down to land in front of Kuki with barely more than a light tap.

_It’s his, take it off, you don’t deserve to wear that fucking mask._

“Ya don’t have faith, Uribou…”

 _He’s dead, it can’t be him because he’s dead. You watched him die. You_ **_let_ ** _him die. It isn’t. Someone is just messing with you, you know that right?_

“C’mon, watch, I’ll prove it.” The ghoul fingers the edge of the mask, and Kuki watches, horrified, as the ghoul pulls back the hood completely and gives him a glimpse of pale ginger hair, shaggy and greasy.

Kuki looks at the ground instead.

“C’mooooon, this’ll all be fer nothin’ if ya don’t look, ya know?”

 _It’s just a trick. He’s dead, you saw him die, you_ **_let_ ** _him die, he’s dead, it’s just a trick, he’s dead, he’s dead, your fault he’s dead_ **_your fault_ ** _HE’S FUCKING DEAD AND IT’S YOUR FAULT._

“Urie, look at me. _Look. At. Me!”_ The ghoul shouts, “At least _they_ knew who I was!”

Kuki’s head snaps up, and the still-masked ghoul jerks a thumb behind him. He realises, perhaps a little belatedly, that Higemaru has left his side and is kneeling next to a motionless (please just be unconscious) Yonebayashi. He can’t see the other two.

“Well, Saiko did. The replacements- the giant… idiot and the Chinese girl didn’t. But they got it when Saiko started cryin’… The girl was kinda cute actually.”

And there’s part of Kuki that doesn’t have to see the face of the ghoul to know he’s leering, and he resents it.

“Shut up.”

“Ooh, protective, protective.”

It’s too late to shout a warning as the ghoul’s leg shoots out and catches Higemaru in the head. He crumples instantly and Kuki has no idea whether he’s alive or not.

“Now that we’re all… alone, Urie, I can finally…”

Kuki’s eyes drop to the ground again because he doesn’t want to see it. Doesn’t want to _know_ . Something else drops too, and it hits the ground with a small noise. _It’s the mask, isn’t it? God, oh, please, no._

“Why don’t ya wanna see me?”

 

_“Why don’t ya wanna tell me why he hurt you?”_

_“I wasn’t listening to him, alright? Leave it. You said you wouldn’t ask again, so don’t.”_

_“But he was hurtin’ ya! His own fuckin’ son!”_

_And then, unexpectedly, Shirazu had hugged him, and Kuki had melted into it. No one ever made him feel this small and yet so comforted all at once. Kuki hated that too._

_Disgusting._

_Mutsuki had found them that day and Kuki had jumped away from Shirazu like he was burning him (Except it was only his father who’d done that), and they hadn’t talked about it again. It was the first of the two times they’d done so._

 

“Are ya… afraid or somethin’?”

“Of you? Don’t be absurd, _imposter.”_ He spits, venom in every inch of his tone.

 _Because you_ **_are_ ** _an imposter, right? You aren’t really him._

 

 _“_ _Are ya afraid of us… judgin’ ya? ‘Cause we won’t… We’re here fer ya…_ **_I’m_ ** _here fer ya.”_

 

_The second time had occurred when Shirazu stopped breathing._

 

Then, when Kuki isn’t expecting it, he feels thick, calloused fingers close around his chin. Slowly, slowly, his head is forced up. And he fights weakly, teeth bared and he snarls like a fucking dog _(woof woof, Matsuri)_ , but the grip is too strong and he’s too terrified of what he’s about to see to remember to use his limbs too.

Eyes he’s been dreaming about for two goddamn years meet his, and Shirazu Ginshi kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you got this far, thank u v much for reading! feedback is v v v much appreciated :) chapter 2 is underway and i'm thinking it will only be a two chapter thing but i miiiiiight decide to add more maybe, maybe not. also idk what happened to mutsuki in this i just didn't add him whoops i meant to but then i just... didn't oops.


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